Situational Reliance
by Amber Cloud
Summary: The team has to rely on their own skills when Patrick Jane is not in the picture. Oops, did I give away too much already? M because it's gonna get violent.
1. Chapter 1

Situational Reliance

A/N

I know what you're thinking. She's giving up on Brief Glimpse. Nope. Am Not. This was a plot bunny that wouldn't leave me alone today as I house cleaned (House isn't clean-dang bunny) so, I couldn't resist it. It came from reading the CBS fourm where someone asked the question about when the team wouldn't rely on Jane. Well, well…the back of my mind went to work and here you go. Reviews begged for.

The dedication here is my dear friend Ratboy who probably won't see this, he's wanting me to work on my novel. I want to as well, but this is writing to get me writing, got it?

CBS owns the rights, I'm just defending them online…

Chapter 1

The first thing Patrick Jane knew was that he wasn't at home. Home was where he had gone to bed, hoping to chase the demons that haunted his sleep for just a few moments when he barely remembered them. They were in ski masks, had guns, and he couldn't move when they entered his room. It seemed so much like a dream he thought he was in one and tried to move. He got up, put his hand on the alarm clock and went to hit one of them with it. He made contact, but was overpowered quickly. There were two of them. The one who he hit with the clock yelped when it hit him, but Jane was not able to fight them both. They took him from his bedroom, he could remember that. The pain of an injection followed soon after and that's when he remembered going back to sleep again. It was no nightmare. He had been taken.

The problem he now had was not being able to focus clearly. His clear mindedness, his stock in trade, was out of commission. He could not think straight to save his life. His life might just depend on it, he thought as he went back into the darkness he came from. The light was bright, he was moving in a car and it felt like morning. It hurt too much to think.

Agent Teresa Lisbon sat staring at the door. Her agents, Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt stared at her, not used to seeing their boss this agitated. Something was wrong. Lisbon knew this and the actions of her team were getting to her. Jane was never late, in fact he was always early. She had set an appointment up with him to meet to go over past paperwork in a review and she was concerned. He wasn't here.

"You guys see Jane anywhere?" she asked slowly, watching the door again.

She wished that he would appear suddenly, slight smile on his face and mug of tea in hand. That was what she wished, but something wasn't right. She could feel it.

"Um, no," Cho said, glancing at Rigsby at the same time, "You call him in?"

"Yeah, we had paperwork to go over and he's not answering his phone," she continued, "I don't have a good feeling about this."

"When did you call him?" Van Pelt asked, looking up from her work, "You know he doesn't do morning well."

"I know that," Lisbon turned to face Van Pelt, "But I called him last night to confirm for today and he didn't answer. This isn't like him."

"Agreed," Rigsby interrupted, "You want me to check on him boss?"

Cho didn't wait for Lisbon's answer as he got up and grabbed his jacket and car keys. He had the same dark feeling. Something wasn't right here. Screw the rules, he was going to check it out.

___________________________

Upon reaching Jane's house, Van Pelt, Rigsby, Cho and Lisbon knew that their own gut instincts were right on the money. His front door hung open. It looked like it had been kicked in. Lisbon stared at the scene, pulling her gun as she heard the rest of her team do the same. She also pulled out her cell phone. The local authorites would be a good backup to whatever they found and she motioned for Cho and Rigsby to go into the house. She would follow. From the look on Cho's face she knew that he would not have stayed there to wait anyway. Rigsby wasn't far behind.

The only time the two stopped moving was to pull gloves on as they entered Jane's house. An open door was never a good sign. Walking into his house though was something they weren't expecting. He was always a mystery to them and they really didn't know what to expect in his house.

The house was primarily barren of life. There were no pictures on the walls and very little furniture.

"Does he live here?" Cho asked, walking through the house, gun drawn, "It seems nearly vacant."

Lisbon and Van Pelt followed them in. In the morning sunlight, the house looked like it had been moved out of. You could see the outlines of pictures on the wall, marks in the carpet that looked like a piano had once been there and marks on the floor that only a tricycle could make. It looked like life had been there.

"Jane?" Rigsby called out.

"Okay, Cho, you and Rigsby check upstairs," Lisbon commanded, "There's a chance he's up there. Van Pelt, please wait outside for the local PD. When they show, tell them we're conducting a search of the house, we believe there to be foul play."

Van Pelt nodded. She was terrified of what they might find upstairs. She really liked Jane, the thought of him being harmed worried her more than she liked to believe. She could see the same feeling in Lisbon's eyes, but her boss hid it a little better.

"Grace, he's okay, he has to be," Lisbon said to her, "Go, I'll check down here and yell if I need you."

Van Pelt left as Cho and Rigsby slowly headed upstairs, guns drawn. They checked every room that lead to the master bedroom slowly, checking every possible angle. It was quiet and like downstairs, devoid of life.

For Rigsby it was hard to fathom living like this. Jane had never revealed much of himself to the rest of the group. They all knew the tragedy, they never really brought it up unless circumstances did.

Cho reached the bedroom door first, slowly opening it to reveal a Red John "Happy Face" blood painting on the wall. He visibly paled.

'_No'_, his inner voice screamed, _'Not him too'_

"Rigsby," he said, his voice steady, "Get in here now."

"Now?" Wayne crossed behind him and saw the symbol, "What the hell?"

Cho took a deep breath and headed further into the room. The room shared the lack of decoration of the rest of the house, minus a twin mattress that had been thrown across the room. The alarm clock which he could only assume was Jane's was on it's side under the happy face portrait.

"Do you think?" Rigsby started to ask.

"It's not fresh," Cho answered before he could finish, "All of the Red John sites have had a fresh painting and a body. He's not here."

Lisbon joined them upstairs, looking at Cho and not the wall.

"Downstairs is clear," she said stopping in mid-sentence as she saw the portrait, "Is that fresh?'

Rigsby touched it. It was dried blood, but still had a sense of eeriness to it.

"No," he breathed, "It's not. That means that…"

"He's left it on the wall for five years," Lisbon said, looking away.

Cho was quiet. He knelt down to examine the mattress.

"He slept here," Cho started, "It's obvious."

Rigsby started to look around. While the mattress was thrown, the alarm clock was working, yet it looked like it was shoved against the wall. There was a blood smear on the floor near it.

"This blood's fresh," Rigsby said, "Looks like he tried to fight off what was happening."

Lisbon stopped. This was definitely a kidnapping. Taking a deep breath, she tried to find the professionalism she knew she was going to have to call on. Jane was her consultant, he had become a friend over the past few months, and the thought of him harmed was getting to her. The sound of sirens brought her back to reality.

"Guys, this is a kidnapping case as of now," she commanded, "Gather everything you can and we'll find him. Got it?"

Cho and Rigsby started to take notes and walk the scene. They didn't speak unless necessary and lost the usual banter. This was not the time or the place for it. They had to find Jane. That was the job now.

Lisbon joined them in the silence, bagging the alarm clock. It was time to figure out where he was and hopefully save his life.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

AN-Okay, so you guys are all asking…why so long? The Holidaze. I was really busy over Thanksgiving, so…my apologies. Thanks to all who were so kind to review and the folks who added me to their alerts. I love you all!

Here you go!

* * *

Teresa stared at the happy face that Red John left Patrick Jane five years ago. The blood had dried to a rust color that would never leave the paint on the wall. It was happy yet angry at the same time. The mere thought that Jane had left it on the wall for so long was the sign that something was seriously still wrong with him. She had to push that entire train of thought out of her mind and focus on what was in front of her, the scene of what looked an apparent abduction of Patrick Jane.

To go through such tragedy and come out the other side somewhat sane was a tribute to him, but everything she and her team had studied about the human mind made her wonder. She looked around the room for what felt like the hundreth time, seeing if anything could place where Jane might have been taken. She had called the Attorney General when the local PD arrived, it was important that he knew about Jane's disappearance before the media and she sent Van Pelt to deal with the press. Cho was too fired up to stop working the scene and Grigsby had stepped out of the room to send materials to be processed back to the lab.

"Boss, can you think of anything else?" Cho asked looking up from his photography.

"No," Lisbon replied, trying to hide her frustration, "You do realize that this is literally two crime scenes in one. We don't know where the original case ends and last night starts."

"He hasn't made it easy for us," Cho said, "I can't seem to figure out if the fingerprints are his or others."

"You've taken them all?" Lisbon asked.

"Yes, I have," Cho continued, "It seems like there was some form of fight, but they overpowered him pretty fast."

"Overpowered Jane," Rigsby surmised, "He's not the fighter type so, did they knock him out or drug him, that's my question."

"Mine as well," Lisbon added, "We need to go over the original scene back at the office, gentlemen, add this one to it. We also need to figure out who would be after Jane. Who would kidnap him?"

"Red John," Rigsby said softly, trying to hide the fear that edged it, "He's got to be our first suspect."

"Agreed, but," Cho thought for a second, "Jane has managed to anger enough people from his old job. Could one of them be after him?"

"I've got Van Pelt working on his Red John case," Lisbon interrupted, "His history as a psychic is pretty varied. He never mentioned anything about problems from that past."

"Yeah, but who would want to take him like this?" Rigsby asked again, "He didn't go willingly. This person would have to know his life now compared to then."

"Would they know that we're involved now?" Cho asked.

"They would have to, Jane's still well known enough to make the news when he works with us," Lisbon said, "Guys, let's go back to the office and work on this now."

They agreed and drove back to the main office of the CBI. After dealing with the varied questions of the media, Grace Van Pelt was already hard at work on the history of Jane, his picture on their main board with his life story already written out. She plugged in what he had told her about his life in with the timeline she built.

Because the information was so vast, she put the rest of the information in one of the briefing rooms. Slowly each wall was marked by his past and his present. Internet searches gave her his early life, one that had a number of interestingIt told an impressive story. The main crux was his life before Red John and that had some holes. He had very little issues with his fans, but like with every celebrity, he had a share of stalkers. From the list she had, Van Pelt ran the names through every possible agency, hoping and praying for a hit.

The sight of Jane's door hanging open sent her into a panic. She had experience in crime scenes, very bad ones in fact, and she usually wound up taking care of the survivors in the aftermath. She felt like a survivor already.

Taking a deep breath she stared at the scene again and started to work through it. Basic criminology was to study what happened and how. She had to work through the original scene so that when the rest of the team returned she could be the expert and tell them where there were differences.

The pictures told the story in graphic detail. What Jane had walked into was a textbook killing from Red John, his family displayed for maximum effect. The nature of the killings was horrific, but Van Pelt looked at it like it was a textbook. To think about it in any other way would reduce her to tears instantly. It was hard to believe that even five years later that Jane could even speak.

She was staring at the wall she had created when Rigsby walked in behind her. He put a hand on her shoulder. Van Pelt covered his with hers.

"We're back and we're going to run it in the main room," he said softly, "You okay?"

"Yes," she replied softly, "You guys run your photos yet? I want to put them against the original crime."

Rigsby looked around the room. Her care was meticulous in making a timeline that they all could read and understand. Cho's pictures would only make it better.

"Great work," he cheered her on, "This will help us."

"That's the idea," Grace said, "I keep telling myself that I have to think like Jane."

"Yeah, I think we all have to," Rigsby continued, "Let's go see Lisbon and run this."

As she walked into the main room, Lisbon was waiting for her.

"We're waiting for the photos and prints to run," she began, "But let's start at the top. Our Crime Scene has it own past. Van Pelt, what can you tell us about the bloodstains. Are they all from the previous crime? Or is anything different?"

"As far as I can tell, the bloodstains on the wall are from the first crime," Van Pelt answered, "I have studied every picture. Nothing from the scene was fresh on the wall. The results from the sample Rigsby brought me is fresh and from what you told me is from the floor. Early results didn't match Jane or his family."

"So, it's a break," Cho said, from his computer.

"Possibly," Grace continued, "Keep in mind that we have the first scene to work back through. It doesn't help us."

"No, it certainly doesn't," Lisbon added, "You've put together a timeline from that case?"

"It's huge," Van Pelt responded, "I put it in briefing one to spread it out. I was just going to start on his past clients who had issues when you guys came in."

"Show me," Lisbon said.

The team followed her into the first briefing room. Lisbon was stunned. Van Pelt had very logically created a timeline that would help them. While Jane was good at the first glance of a situation, Van Pelt had created a background to every moment of the line. It was precise work and done in a short amount of time.

"Impressive," Cho said, falling in behind Lisbon, "Where does today fit in?"

Van Pelt pointed to the furthest part of the room. She had a few photos up of the scene they had just left and had marked the points on the carpet that weren't from the earlier attack. It made a completely different pattern from the other, but was easy to track. They had rushed the scene.

"Any word on the blood stain?" Lisbon asked, hoping for another angle.

"Not yet," Grigsby added, "They are nearly there. It's running through the FBI database and the state database."

Lisbon looked around the room, all they could now was wait.

* * *

Light was the first thing that he realized was trickling into the room. He then felt the material that was beneath his body. It had the same cold texture as cement. Using tricks he remembered from a long time ago, he opened his eyes for a brief moment, spread his palms on the cement and turned.

He hadn't heard any voices for a few minutes or what could have been hours, so he had the feeling that he very well could be alone.

The sudden intensity of sound made him remember he wasn't where he should be and the nausea, fogginess and general disorientation made him remember that he had been drugged. He knew that it had been some time since he was drugged, but there was always the possibility that it could happen again.

Slowly sitting up, his stomach reminded him that was probably not the greatest idea but his brain overrode it. He looked down at the floor and surveyed the room. He wasn't surprised by the video camera hooked up just far enough above his head for him not to reach it.

He was in cell, that was obvious, it had a bed, a small table with food on it and a light. Slowly moving toward the table to sit back down, he looked at the food and there was a typewritten note on top of it. While his eyes struggled to focus on the typeface, he was brought back to the horror of the past by the note's signature.

'Thought your arrogance could help the most arrogant, let's see them find you' was what the note said, when he could make out the words. The signature was one he knew too well. It was the red ink happy face of Red John.


End file.
